


Smiling, Always Smiling

by Sarah1281



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Balon vaguely attempts to dad, Canon Compliant, Domestic, F/M, at least Alannys loves him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-23
Updated: 2014-08-23
Packaged: 2018-02-14 08:20:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2184573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarah1281/pseuds/Sarah1281
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Balon is glad to have another heir, and a male one as well, but looking at the child he knew there was something not quite right. He wasn't loud or fierce like his brothers and even Asha and he just wouldn't stop smiling. Alannys could tell him he was being ridiculous all she wanted but somehow he just knew that this was going to be a problem.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Smiling, Always Smiling

Alannys stared down at the baby in her arms with rapt fascination. Balon had been staring at the child, too, but he rather doubted the look on his face resembled his wife’s. 

“Parents shouldn’t have favorites,” she said suddenly. 

“Why not?” Balon asked. “It seems perfectly natural to me. A man has a favorite woman, a favorite ship, a favorite weapon, a favorite everything else you can think to mention. I suppose it is the same with women. Why not a favorite child?” 

Alannys bit her lip and considered the question. “Well…it just doesn’t seem fair. They’re all our trueborn children and have their own merits.” 

“And some merits are greater than others,” Balon countered. “If I have a child who can take our independence from those damned greenlanders and bring back the old way and a child who the Drowned Gods have not seen fit to rid me of and who cannot even speak then why should I not favor the competent one?” 

Alannys looked down at the baby and then back at Balon. “He’s only a few hours old, dear husband.” 

Balon’s mouth twitched. “I wasn’t speaking specifically of the child. Though if he does not learn to speak in a reasonable timeframe then I cannot say that I will think much of him.” 

“I don’t know,” Alannys said haltingly. “Some children will always be better at some things than others. Some will just be better at most things or at least all the useful things and that will dictate their place here. But it still seems…unfair, perhaps, to award parental affection based on that.” 

Balon snorted. “Fair? What is ‘fair’? I think it is far fairer to let greater achievement lead to greater affection than to wrong the more talented children by caring for a worthless child just as much.” 

Alannys’ eyes flashed. “I did not give you any worthless children.” 

“Then this is all hypothetical,” Balon pointed out. “But something tells me that your sudden interest in not having a favorite child means you are having more trouble keeping to your beliefs than you would like to admit.” 

Alannys squirmed slightly under the weight of his stare. “I don’t have a favorite child. I just…I’m marveling, really, at what an easy baby this one is turning out to be. It’s perhaps too soon to tell but his brothers and sister gave me far more trouble. Even the birth was easier.” 

The baby gurgled and smiled up at her as if he had any idea that she had just praised him and Alannys ran a loving finger down his cheek. 

“Yes, well, I do not begrudge you the lack of pain.” 

She looked up sharply. “I take it that your opinion does not line up with mine?” 

“As you say, this child is so new. It would hardly be, shall we say, fair to judge him already. But I will say that I have some concerns,” Balon admitted. 

Alannys raised an eyebrow delicately. “Concerns? What is there to possibly concern yourself about? He is less than a day old!” 

“This child is the youngest,” Balon told her. “I have had three before him and I have seen countless other babies as well. I understand babies and the children and men they grow up to be.” 

“And what exactly has our very tiny son done that has you so worried?” Alannys asked challengingly, the look in her eyes making it clear – even if she would not say it outright – that she thought that he was being ridiculous. 

“Do you remember when Rodrik was born?” Balon asked in lieu of answering her. 

She smiled wryly. “Rather better than you do, I would imagine.” 

“I knew that I would have strong sons one day even if our firstborn was a girl but I must confess that I wanted a boy to begin with,” he said. 

“Most men do, especially men with inheritances to leave.” 

“I knew. I knew that my child was a boy before the maester was able to confirm it,” Balon recalled fondly. “He came out head first. The very moment his mouth was visible he began to scream. Some children don’t realize they need to breathe and must be shocked into crying so that they can live, I had been told that. But not Rodrik. He came into this world screaming and I swear that in all my days I have never heard a louder baby.” 

“I think that I remember Rodrik’s refusal to stop crying once he started a little less joyfully than you do, even with thralls to tend to him,” Alannys replied. 

“He was a strong boy and once he was fully out it only confirmed what I already knew. He was my son and heir, named though he was after your brother, and he would lead Pyke to a great and glorious future following the ways of the past,” Balon continued. 

“He will do that,” Alannys reminded him gently. “He is not the Lord Reaper of Pyke just yet.” 

“And won’t be for many a year, I agree,” Balon said. “It is a shame that I will never see the kind of king my son will be but that is the curse of being a father.” 

“King?” 

“King,” Balon repeated firmly. The plans were still a few years away from fruition but he could almost feel the crown on his head, almost see it on the head of his son. It was a foolish thought because of course he could never see such a sight but as long as he knew that it would one day come to pass then it was really quite enough. And what was he doing all of this for if not to secure Rodrik’s legacy? Maron’s legacy. Even little Asha’s legacy. And then there was this child as well. He did not know exactly how he would manage to make his move. The Targaryens, even without their dragons, were fearsome and Aerys in particular was quite…keen to punish defiance. Perhaps the time would never be right. But he couldn’t think like that. The day would come. It would have to. He just needed to wait and watch and prepare. “You might live to see it if you are fortunate.” 

“If I am fortunate?” Alannys asked. “It means that I lose my husband.” 

“A longer life, provided it is not devoid of honor, is never unfortunate,” he replied. 

Alannys shivered. “Please, Balon, do not talk of such dismal things! Today is a happy day.” 

Balon rather thought that Rodrik’s ascension, even though it would necessitate his own death, would be a happy day as well but his wife could be oddly sentimental at the best of times and it only got worse right after she had given birth. 

“I knew that Rodrik was strong from the beginning,” Balon said instead. “And as he has grown he has proven my faith was well-placed. And then we have Maron. You had put that hat on him because it was cold and you had stitched it yourself but he didn’t like it.” 

“It wasn’t my hat in particular he didn’t like,” Alannys objected. “Rather I don’t think he wanted anything on his head. It was a perfectly good hat.” 

Despite the failure with Maron’s hat, Alannys had made another one for Asha and for this new baby though he wasn’t wearing it yet. Asha, he recalled, was not impressed with the hat either but at least she had not seen fit to remove it like her brother. The idea of making her baby a hat evidently hadn’t occurred to her when Rodrik had been born but it was not as though he was missing out on much and none of the children would have remembered this. 

“Either way, he did not wish to wear it,” he continued. “And so, despite how weak and uncoordinated babies are when they are born, he managed to work the hat off of himself in very short order. And then he did it three more times when you put the hat back on.” 

Alannys sighed but she looked fond. “I had thought that at some point he would just leave it be but he was stubborn.” 

“He is a Greyjoy,” Balon said proudly. “He did not show his strength the way that Rodrik did but he proved it to me.”

“Asha was the first baby that the maester had to smack to get her to breathe,” Alannys recalled. 

“Well, yes,” Balon conceded. “But she is a daughter and not a son and it’s not as though it’s weak to not come out screaming even though doing so is a sign of strength.” 

“Did you have concerns about our daughter, Balon?” she asked. 

Balon shook his head. “As I said, she is a daughter. I didn’t have the same expectations of her as of her brothers but she proved herself just the same. She might have been a boy for what she did.” 

Alannys blinked twice, confused. “And what exactly did she do?” 

“She tried to kill me,” Balon explained. 

She paused, trying to digest this. “When she was less than a day old?” 

He shrugged. “It’s been four years by now. I don’t remember exactly when it was; it must have been one of her first few days.” 

“And…how, exactly, did she try to kill you then?” 

“I was touching her face and she moved and she bit me,” he told her. “I haven’t been so surprised in years. I was fine, of course, because she had no teeth but even then she knew that she did not want to be disregarded. I think she’ll make a fine reaver someday.” 

“I thought the whole point of having daughters was so as to not risk their lives in battle,” Alannys said, her tone deceptively light. “You do have three sons for that.” 

“I will not force Asha to do anything. It wouldn’t mean a thing if I forced her. Similarly, if Rodrik or Maron or this other one hadn’t wanted that then I’m sure we could have found something for them to do though you’re right it is less expected of women to captain a ship than men,” Balon said. 

“Asha’s only four.” 

“And she does like the feel of a knife in her hand,” Balon said. “I caught her fingerdancing with Maron the other day and while I was very proud I think she should at least wait until she’s six for that. No reason to mar a bright future by losing a finger too soon.” 

Urrigon had been fourteen when he had died from complications from the finger dance but losing a finger never killed anybody if properly treated. If Asha or one of her brothers lost a finger then Balon would just ensure that they were given the proper treatment and damn anyone who tried to convince him to just sew it back on and hope for the best. He could have told anybody even back then, even before the death of his brother, that that was a foolish idea. The maester had come to appreciate that in time. 

“Sometimes I do wonder about the way we raise our children,” Alannys said, letting out a yawn and readjusting the child in her arms. “That is not how they behave in the rest of Westeros.” 

Balon’s eyes narrowed at the reminder that they were still a subjugated land. Not for much longer, he promised himself. “And that is why Westeros is weak. Do not try to make your fierce daughter a weak greenland maiden, Alannys. She will not thank you for it. That kind of creature might be fine for King’s Landing but she would not survive long here.” 

“I hardly think not wanting her to lose a finger playing foolish games at the age of six – or any age! Losing a finger is a bigger deal than everyone makes it out to be – means that I want her to be weak,” Alannys protested. 

“I never said you’d want her to be weak, just that it could easily turn out that way. It’s harder for women to prove themselves here and so only the best make it and Asha doesn’t need any disadvantages.” 

Alannys looked unconvinced. “So that’s your issue with the baby? He was born quietly, has not had time to knock off his hat, and hasn’t bitten you? You haven’t so much as touched him; I’m sure he can manage a proper assassination attempt like his sister soon enough.” 

Technically that was true. There was a possibility that the little one could try to bite him or tear off his hat or both of them or something unique like his siblings. But Balon got the feeling that he wouldn’t. The baby hadn’t been breathing when he was born, like Asha hadn’t, but he had still been smiling. He might have been born dead and never taken a breath at all and he was smiling. Far be it from him to believe that babies did anything on purpose, they just reacted to what was going on around them, but it was unnerving. But not unnerving in a way that made him think of strength. 

If he stopped to think about it, he might almost see the potential for strength in that. An Ironborn smiling and laughing as they faced death? He could respect that. It was certainly more impressive than cowering or not noticing it coming. But that was only when it was a good death in battle or at least being executed afterwards. The kind of death that could only find a warrior. Anyone could be born dead; it was no accomplishment. And he looked so peaceful, so passive. It was like there was no fight in him. Live or die, it was all the same. The maester had been the one who had made the choice for him to live. Asha had been the same and yet…somehow…when it was her it had been different. She had needed that extra push but she had taken it and run with it, screaming herself raw. 

This baby’s face had scrunched up and Balon could swear it had looked betrayed before whimpering for awhile. It was more pained than angry. Asha had been angry, he was sure. 

And he hadn’t heard the baby cry since. Yes the baby was young but the others had cried more. The only way babies can communicate is through their cries. Hungry, tired, dirty? A cry alerts people to all of those. And though Balon hadn’t been in the room the entire time, the sound of a wailing baby did tend to carry and he had heard nothing. And besides, Alannys had said he was an easy baby. He wished he could be glad for her sake but he was too busy feeling a growing apprehension of his own. 

“Balon,” Alannys said loudly and he belatedly realized that she had been calling his name. “Balon, this is our son and not an enemy.” 

“What? I didn’t…I was just thinking.” 

“Negatively. About our son,” she said pointedly. 

“I haven’t had a moment where I’ve just known yet,” he admitted. “It-it may come in time.” 

“But you don’t believe it,” she supplied. 

Balon shrugged. “It does not matter what I believe. A Greyjoy would prove himself regardless. I’m not so blind as to not see what value he does have should he display it.” 

“He needs a name,” Alannys said suddenly. “We can’t just keep calling him ‘the baby.’”

“I suppose not,” Balon agreed. He hadn’t sat down and thought about names to give this new son and he certainly hadn’t discussed the matter with his wife. But there had been times when he had been doing other things that names had just floated into his mind, hadn’t there? It was a shame he couldn’t remember any of them now. “Do you have any thoughts on the matter?” 

Alannys smiled down at their son and he smiled right back at her. Well, if he was having difficulty with this child at least the boy’s mother wasn’t. “I think I want a different name for him.” 

“Different?” Balon repeated. “Different than what?” 

“Different than the same old Iron Islands names,” she explained. “This one is special. I can feel it.” 

He certainly didn’t much resemble his siblings in anything but looks, even at this early age. That was one definition for special, he supposed. “Do you have anything in mind?” 

“I want it to be a great name,” Alannys told him. “Just not a local one. A name that when people hear it they’ll think only of him. Or any children named after him, of course. But a name of a man who did great things.” 

Balon, being a proud proponent of the Old Way and hater of all things Westerosi, needed to take a moment to think of a foreigner who had done something he respected enough to name a child after. Even a child who was strange and quiet and smiley. 

“Aegon?” he offered finally. 

Alannys gave him a look. “Every other Targaryen names their child Aegon. And I’m sure there’s hundreds of commoners that share the name. I said special.” 

“Brandon?” 

“I’m pretty sure it’s a law that every Stark generation must include a Brandon.” 

“Tywin?” 

Alannys frowned and considered it. “Tywin Greyjoy? I don’t know. It doesn’t sound right.” 

“Are you sure you have no suggestions yourself?” Balon asked pointedly. 

She shook her head. “Keep going; you’re doing marvelously.” 

“Well how about Theon?” Balon asked after a moment’s contemplation. Theon Stark the Hungry Wolf. It wasn’t a bad namesake, not at all. He did not know if the boy would be old enough to take part in the fighting when the time came to cast off the yolk of the Iron Throne (and, considering their plans, perhaps it was for the best not to name him after a Targaryen) but a name like Theon couldn’t hurt him. Balon was hardly an expert on Northern history but he knew that Theon Stark’s reign was filled with constant strife and warfare. And that could have been considered a sign of weakness if it weren’t for the fact that the Starks had never lost Winterfell. Who knew? Perhaps he was a conqueror himself. He would have to look into it. 

“Theon,” Alannys repeated softly, glancing down once more at the bundle in her arms. “What do you think? Would you like to be Theon Greyjoy?” 

Balon didn’t quite understand what the point was of asking a baby, well, anything at all but this one smiled at the name. Of course he had smiled at everything else so that didn’t mean as much as it could have. 

Still, Alannys seemed to take it as a good sign. “Theon Greyjoy. My son,” she said softly. “Remember that. No matter what happens, remember that. You have to know who you are.” 

Theon knew little if anything right now, much less his proud history and the heritage he would have to live up to even as a third son, but he would one day. Somehow, Balon would have to make sure that he would. And maybe there was hope for him with a name like Theon, who knew? 

Cautiously, Balon approached the bed and reached out a hand for his son. Maybe if he was lucky Theon would try to bite him. Though he made sure to foolishly put his finger within biting reach, Theon did not take the bait. He did, however, start crying. 

Alannys glared at him and moved Theon back, trying to comfort him, though it wasn’t as though Balon had actually done anything to cause such a reaction and it was perfectly normal for a baby to cry. All that silent smiling had been the aberration, really. 

And he couldn’t help but remember how Rodrik’s screaming had been louder.


End file.
